


The Chemical Defect

by MelancholicEcstacy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, One Shot, Random & Short, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelancholicEcstacy/pseuds/MelancholicEcstacy
Summary: "Caring is not an advantage" a philosophy Mycroft Holmes held close for his whole life, with a single exception the one and only Greg Lestrade who he'd fallen in love with the minute he'd laid eyes on him. Years later and a deduction by Sherlock leads Mycroft to finally admit his failing beliefs.





	The Chemical Defect

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any spelling mistakes or ooc content.

"Caring is not an advantage."

"Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side"

  
The statements weren't wrong. Those who loved, lost. It was something Mycroft knew very well despite his cold exterior, for which Mrs Hudson had called him a 'reptile', he had cared for many people. He cared for Sherlock and no matter how cruel or cold Mycroft acted towards him he was always afraid for the man, who had lost his way so many times before, he had cared for his parents and his sister Eurus even though she too, lost her way. He even cared for John Watson, the man who had warmed up his brother, the man who had rescued Sherlock from the brink of self destruction. But, Mycroft had always cared for one person differently. For this man who had caught the attention of the ex-MI6 agent was surely the most beautiful and glorious man who had ever lived. Even though he knew it was illogical to feel like one man was worth the world that was how he truly felt, that's how Mycroft Holmes felt about Greg Lestrade.

  
When they had first met it was after the first case Sherlock had solved for Scotland Yard and, as the ever-protective older and wiser brother, he had taken it upon himself to do an investigation of his own. He'd ordered one of his assistants to go and collect the man named Greg Lestrade who Sherlock made take the credit for solving the case. When the town car had pulled up and the man had stepped out, surveying his surroundings warily in a crisp suit and hair that had already faded to the brilliant grey it was, Mycroft wasn't expecting the way his heart had thumped, almost painfully against his chest- he had feared for a little over a second that he was having the heart attack his doctors had warned him would come if he continued with as little excersise and as much food as he had. But he recovered, he pulled himself together and offered the man a large sum of money to spy on his brother, a test that he assumed he would fail after all humans were a typically greedy species. Therefore it had shocked Mycroft when the man had spoken so assuredly and in the most spectacular voice he had ever heard.

  
"I'm a police officer, Mr Holmes, not a spy and I have never and will never take bribes. If you want to gather information on your brother call him, God knows he can talk for hours."

  
Since that day Mycrofts attention had always been dragged to the officer as soon as he appeared and on many occassions he had to force himself to stop staring- glad that he was a Holmes and all awkwardly long glances were assumed to be deductions although Mycroft had never really needed to make any as he knew all of them off by heart and would recite them to himself in the lonely hours of the night when he most longed for the man.

  
The day Mycroft made the deduction that he knew was coming but never hoped for was the day he felt the true effects of his sentiment for the man (and he insisted on calling it sentiment because Mycroft Holmes did not do love). It was late at night in 221B Baker Street with John laid out on an arm chair with Rosamund on his lap gurgling happily and Sherlock at his computer screen looking for new cases while Mycroft sat in a chair demanding that his brother pay heed to what he was saying and getting the usual wave of hands that showed Sherlock didn't care when the door creaked open and Greg Lestrade entered, his smile bright and his body language radiating happiness. When Mycroft looked at him and felt his chest blossom with warmth at the sight of the man he surveyed him, wondering why he was so happy and hoping it was something that he could make occur more often. His whole soul felt like it plummeted when he realised, the deduction standing out to him like highlighted text.

  
**In Love**

  
Mycroft hadn't see the man for a while as he had business to attend to overseas but obviously in the time he was away Greg had found a woman and probably went on dates as that's what normal people do and now he was in love and most likely about to tell everyone that he wanted them to meet his new girlfriend.

  
"Congratulations, I am made to understand that love is a brilliant thing despite the utter pointlessness of the whole endevour as you only ever really have two options, break up or get married and since half of marriages end in divorce, break up is probably the more realistic of the two and that means that you put yourself and others through pain because you are selfish and demand to act on your feelings even though you know the outcome will most likely be horrible and depressing but you do it anyway, because hey love! Right?" Sherlock rambled from his slumped position.

  
John reprimanded him with a sharp, "Sherlock!"

  
"What my brother means," Mycroft started, struggling for internal control "is that he is happy for you."

  
"Yes, that." Sherlock pointed and returned to his search.

  
"I know it isn't, but thank you" Greg replied, his smile still in place.

  
"So whose the lucky lady?" John adjusted Rosamund to a more comfortable position before proceeding, "Do we know her?"

  
Mycroft noticed the deep flush that set into the detectives skin at the question and wondered. Going by his reaction they knew the person well and he hadn't told them yet. Hopefully, whoever they were would not reject him. Despite Mycrofts deep sentiment for the man he knew that the anguish caused by the others pain would be worse than knowing that he didn't return his... sentiment.  
Greg rubbed the back of his neck, ""Uh, yeah. In fact I'd actually come to ask if you knew where they were but I've actually changed my-"

  
"They?" Sherlock butted in, picking up on the pronoun, "If it was a female you would have said 'she' but you said 'they' leading me to believe that they are male. Is that correct?"  
John, although used to his friends bluntness still let out a small hiss of annoyance, "Which wouldn't be a problem obviously," He aimed at Greg.

  
"Uh, of course and yes, Sherlock you would be correct," His face grew a shade darker and he kept his gaze on the floor.

  
Sherlock gasped in that dramatic way of his and stood, "Oh, Brother, I have a deduction"  
"Sherlock..." John warned, picking up on where his friend was going.

  
Mycroft looked at his brother, annoyance and shock mixing in his mind. He was completely unsure of how to deal with this situation, Greg Lestrade was in love with a male and his brother had beat him to a deduction. Looking at Greg's face revealed that he was afraid of Sherlock revealing his secret.

  
"Sherlock, I do not think this is the time for games," Mycroft spoke out, his need to protect those he cares for overriding his need to know.

  
Completely ignoring his brother and friend Sherlock continued, "During the 3 minutes and... 28 seconds Lestrade has been in this room he has looked at me exactly 16 times, John 19 and you, brother only 4. This would indicate that you are the one he is least comfortable with except all those 4 looks were before my earlier deduction of his use of 'they' since then he has looked at you zero times. This proves that he is uncomfortable with enclosing this information to you, now possibly there are many reasons for this. He could feel closer to John and I, he could feel like you are most likely to ostracise him for his sexuality or... you could be the one he loves and he doesn't want you to know"

  
Mycroft froze, his whole body feeling as though it turned to ice because... no. It was highly improbable that Greg Lestrade was in love with him, then again it was more improbable that Sherlock was wrong. He glanced at Lestrade and saw the definate fear clouding his eyes.

  
"Is that true?" Mycrofts voice came out as barely a whisper causing both John and Sherlock to stare at him, realizing what was happening. "Gregory, is that true?"

  
"Of course it is. Sherlocks never wrong and honestly I'm surprised you didn't know, but I figured that, considering your viewpoint on love and sentiment, that you would be more comfortable without me telling you" Lestrade this time looked directly into Mycrofts own eyes when he spoke.

  
Mycroft chuckled lightly, "As a detective I thought you'd be better at seeing through lies."

  
"I don't understand."

  
"My views on... love" much to his shame his voice wavered "and sentiment. They are not what they used to be." Mycroft was painfully aware of John forcing Sherlock- who had a mocking grin on his face- out of the room, "Yes, I still believe love is dangerous, and painful but I do not despise it. I could not despise it. Not when it's you."

  
Gregs eyes blew wide, his mouth opening slightly and all he could mutter was unintelligable garbage that made no sense but brought the smallest of smiles to Mycrofts face and he knew that any embarrassment he had was worth it.

  
Mycroft stood, stepping towards the shorter man, "Greg Lestrade, you are the only one on this planet that has managed to convince me that love and sentiment are worth anything, you are the only one to ever make me understand what it actually meant to feel that way."

  
Greg looked up at him with so much emotion in his dark eyes and whispered "I love you."


End file.
